


A Dumb Screenshot of Youth

by array



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Inspired by Music, Keith (Voltron) Has EDS, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 07:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14232393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/array/pseuds/array
Summary: Lance wants to figure out his mysterious roommate.His mysterious, not very social and very much in pain roommate.It goes about as well as you'd expect.(Inspired by Sick of Losing Soulmates by dodie)





	A Dumb Screenshot of Youth

**Author's Note:**

> A short fic I wrote like a year ago. Please be kind lol

_ Watch how a cold broken teen, _

_ Will desperately lean on a superglued human of proof _

 

Lance sighed heavily as he threw himself backwards onto his couch. “I don’t know, man. I feel like maybe I should just kick him out, you know?”

 

“ _ What? _ ” There is rustling to be heard on the other end of the line, as well as a soft murmur of “sorry, Mittens,” as Hunk struggled to get out of the comfortable sanctuary that is his bed. He was used to this—it was not the first time Lance had rung him up so early in the morning. “Why would you kick him out so soon, Lance? At least give the guy a chance!”

 

The brunet in question simply groaned and tossed his head back recklessly toward the couch. “Dude, you think I haven’t? Because I have given him a chance! In fact, I have given him  _ several _ chances, and I’m a nice guy, you know, I get why someone wouldn’t be talkative for the first few days, but it’s been  _ weeks _ _ — _ ,”

 

“Like a week and a half,” Hunk interjected, mournfully sipping his coffee. “Look, you need someone to split the rent with, okay? If you’re really that uncomfortable, why don’t you talk to him about it? I’m sure you guys can figure something out.”

 

Lance hummed thoughtfully, mindlessly searching the apartment from his position on the couch. It was a nice apartment, with a newly renovated kitchen and a decent enough rent if it’s split by two people. When Hunk first told him it would be best to get a roommate to split the money with, he had been ecstatic. As a friendly person, naturally drawn to other people, he loved the idea of living with someone his own age. Someone nice. Someone he could  _ befriend _ . But what did he get? A grumpy eighty-year-old man stuck in the body of a twenty-something year old. He barely leaves his room, and when he does he either leaves the apartment or does something inside the apartment to fulfill his basic human needs.

 

Like cooking.

 

Oh, don’t even get Lance started on his fucking cooking. So he’d tried to be a nice roommate, right? When Keith —that’s Mr. Eighty-year-old’s name, by the way—had first moved in, Lance had tried to be a nice roommate and cooked him a meal; as a welcoming gift, of sorts. And what did Keith do when Lance kindly told him “Hey, Keith I made dinner,”?

 

He muttered “good for you,” and proceeded to slam the door to his bedroom shut.

 

Ever since, they had been cooking their own meals, which Lance thought was kind of a waste.

 

“Uhh, Lance? You still with me, buddy?”

 

The tanned man was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts and his cheeks reddened. “Y-yeah, sorry buddy. I spaced out.”

 

There was a sigh from the other line. “It’s fine. So what are you gonna do about the roommate?”

 

“I—,” he hesitated. Mulled it over in his head for a while. Took the idea, processed it, turned it inside out and spun it around a little. Finally, he let out a shaky breath. With a slight edge of anxiousness, he uttered the words, “I guess I’ll talk to him.”

 

And so here he stood, a few days later. He thought it was a good idea, since he hadn’t seen Keith leave his bedroom for the last two days. Truthfully, he was a little bit worried, but he tried to shake off his concern. He  _ needed _ to talk to Keith. Get him to understand that this wasn’t really working out and—okay, maybe not phrase it as if he was breaking up with the guy, Jesus.  _ Talk to him about it, _ Hunk had said. So he will, because he’s a good friend and because he doesn’t want to be the jerk who kicked a guy out of his apartment because of communication difficulties.

 

Gently lifting his closed hand toward the door, he hesitated. Then, a quick thought of  _ fuck it _ passed his brain, and just like that, he was rapping his knuckles against the wood. He winced at the loud noise and wished he’d handled it with more grace, but it was a fucking  _ door _ . It’ll live.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a muffled groan and the squeaky noise that came from someone getting out of bed. Lance’s eyes widened as he threw a quick glance to the clock on the wall to his left, and he managed to think  _ Why the fuck is he only getting out of bed  _ now _? _ Before the door opened.

 

Keith’s disgruntled face was staring right back at him as he let out a nervous chuckle and managed to smile. “Good morning.”

 

The shorter man’s face twisted in confusion. “Uh, g’morning?” he said, voice raspy from sleep but still thick with what sounded strangely like apprehension.

 

“I thought we could talk. Would you like some uh, breakfast?” Lance gestured wildly towards the kitchen and watched as Keith’s eyes widened significantly. 

 

“You—,” his voice broke a little, and he cleared his throat. “You’d make me breakfast?”

 

The brunet frowned and tilted his head. Did he not want breakfast, or did he not expect Lance to make him anything after the dinner fiasco? The thought of that made Lance realize what he was really doing there. He was angry with Keith, damn it! Why is he trying  to be polite? “Yeah, but not if it’s going to be a repeat of that time I made you dinner.” He couldn’t stop the resentment in those words even if he’d tried.

 

Purple eyes narrowed. “When did you make me dinner?” he asked, a hand twisting around the doorknob trapped underneath his right hand. He couldn’t wrap his head around why his roommate was standing outside his door in the first place, and now he’s talking about something that didn’t even take place.

 

Lance felt his jaw slack. “What the fuck,” he said, staring at Keith.

 

The staring went on for a while, until Keith felt himself squirm underneath the brown-haired boy’s gaze. “Uh—,”

 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” Lance repeated.

 

_ “I fucking made you dinner when you first fucking moved into this fucking apartment!” _

 

“I made you dinner once,” he stated instead. “When you first moved in? You said ‘good for you’ and slammed the door.” He watched with renowned interest as the man’s face flushed a deep red and his eyes dropped to the floor.

 

“Shit,” he heard him whisper. Then he shook his head and looked up. “Okay, uh, so I may have thought you just made dinner for yourself and bragged about it? Look it’s just, my last roommate wasn’t very big about sharing any of his stuff, and I’d never lived with someone else before so I thought that was just normal, you know? And so—,”

 

“You thought,” Lance interrupted testily. “That I made dinner for myself.”

 

“Yes,” Keith responded, trying to back into his room slowly, without it being noticeable.

 

“And then proceeded to  _ brag about it _ .”

 

The black-haired man’s cheeks flushed. “Well when you put it like that it sounds stupid,” he protested.

 

“Because it  _ is  _ stupid!” Lance yelled. “Because why the fuck would I do that and—, wait, what do you mean you’ve never lived with someone else?” His mind had caught up to him now, and Keith’s words  from before had fully registered.

 

_ I’d never lived with someone else before _ .

 

What does that mean?

 

“Okay that’s a lie, like obviously I’ve lived with my mom, but other than that it’s, well, you know.” Keith struggled helplessly. He still didn’t know what the fuck Lance wanted from him, and he didn’t know where to look.

 

“No?” He’d meant for it to be a statement, but the way it came out felt more accurate. “No, I don’t know. I have a pretty large family, actually.”

 

“Oh. Uh, good for you?” What the fuck was Keith supposed to say?  _ Cool man, didn’t know that. Should I put it on the list along with all the other things I know about you? So far I have a total of 1 fact(s)! Awesome! _

 

Lance chuckled humorlessly as he pushed a hand through his hair. This conversation was going nowhere near the direction he had wanted it to, and he doesn’t know how to steer it correctly. He figured his best bet was just to start it all over again. “Thanks, I guess? Anyway, I just wanted to talk to you for a while so come on, I’ll make breakfast.” he turned around and promptly walked to the kitchen without waiting for a reply.

 

If he’d turned around, he would’ve seen Keith letting out a long, shaky breath and wincing with every step he took.

 

“Alright, here you go..” A plate of blueberry pancakes and toast slid across the counter, and Keith lifted his hand slightly to stop its momentum.

 

His eyes flickered to meet blue ones. “Thanks.”

 

Lance grinned brightly. “No problem, buddy.”

 

Keith allowed himself no time to think about how badly the word ‘buddy’ affected him as he shoved a mouthful of pancakes into his mouth, briefly registering the fact that Lance was doing the exact same thing. He still had questions he was afraid to ask. Why do they need to talk, and what do they need to talk about? Why do the pancakes feel like the softening of a blow somehow, like this was the calm before the storm?

 

Meanwhile, Lance was freaking the fuck out. What else is new? Oh yeah, apparently Keith the Mystery™ has a heart. That definitely didn’t make Lance feel like an asshole or anything. No, not at all. Besides, what is he going to do now? Pretend like this was just another chance to get to know his roommate, or go through with the plan that Hunk proposed?

 

They should still talk, right? Besides, Keith hadn’t left the apartment in a few days, which means there’s no way he could’ve gotten to work. What if he was fired, what then? What if he wasn’t fired, then what the fuck was he doing home? Lance had so many questions, and he was trying to gather them and organize them when a loud clatter interrupted his thoughts.

 

Eyes snapping up in surprise, he saw Keith looking down on the floor with a disapproving frown on his face. “Stupid fork,” he said as he shoved his stool back and jumped down to get it. “I dropped it,” he then offered by way of explanation.

 

Lance smiled crookedly. “I figured.” Then he proceeded to watch as his roommate put the fork on the counter and kept eating with his  _ bare hands _ . “Dude, hygiene,” Lance chastised, nose turning up in a mild form of disgust. “Also manners, where are your manners?”

 

“Must’ve left them with my fucks,” Keith shrugged as he continued to bite into his pancake that was now placed in between his fingers.

 

Lance was too busy gaping at the audacity, and-was that  _ humor? _ to notice the way Keith’s elbow seemed to have moved into a slightly unnatural angle. He sobered up relatively quickly when he noticed Keith placing his pancake down on his plate again, features laced with discomfort.

 

“Hey,” the tanned man said softly, almost worried. “You okay?”

 

Keith nodded hurriedly. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah, just… my elbow,” he mumbled, quickly trying to twist said limb into its proper position.

 

Lance watched with a mix of fascination and mild horror as the shorter male twisted his elbow and then sat back down again and continued to eat as if nothing had happened. “Uhm… okay.”

 

“So,” Keith exclaimed suddenly. “What did you want to talk about?”

 

Lance frowned. How was he going to bring it up? What question was going to come first? He didn’t know, and—

 

“Why aren’t you working?” He blurted out.

 

—shit.

 

Keith’s eyebrows rose as he studied the male quietly. He seemed surprised by his own question. “How is that any of your business?” He asked coolly.

 

The Cuban scowled. “How isn’t it any of my business? If you’re going to live here you’re going to need to pay rent, and you can’t do that if you don’t go to work!”

 

Suddenly, Keith slumped down in his seat, relaxing. “Oh. Well, you don’t need to worry about that. My insurance covers it; mom helped me fix all that before I started working.”

 

“...What do you mean?”

 

“I mean,” he explained, waving a tiny piece of pancake in the air, “that when I call in sick because of my EDS, I’m still getting paid. So you don’t have to worry about the money.”

 

Lance’s head was reeling. “Your  _ what _ ?”

 

Keith’s mouth curled up at the corners. “My EDS. It’s short for Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. It’s a connective tissue disorder, and what it means for me is basically that I have joint hypermobility and that I’m in pain almost daily if I don’t work out or have my stuff, and all of my stuff is with my old roommate. I really need them but apparently he’s gone on some crazy road trip and won’t be back until friday, so there’s that.”

 

“Your  _ stuff? _ ” Lance asked, staring at Keith in bewilderment. Was his roommate doing  _ drugs _ ? 

 

“Yeah, like my lumbar support belt, my wrist braces, my—,”

 

“ _ Lumbar support belt _ ?” Lance interrupted “What kind of medical bullshit is that?”

 

“Look, just google it or something!” Keith snapped, getting defensive. He shouldn’t have to sit here and be questioned by his roommate.

 

“Dude,” Lance snickered, having googled the strange term. “That’s a fucking-, oh my God. That’s a fucking  _ corset _ , my dude. You have a  _ corset _ ?”

 

“I need it to support my back, alright!? Would you stop fucking interrogating me for a second and get to the point of this conversation already?” He kicked his stool back a bit as he stood up and by that point, Keith’s features were laced with both anger and pain. In his haste to get up he had forgotten about the pain in his leg, and he ended up having to place his hands on the counter for support. He’s ashamed of having to do that in the first place, and his ears are burning with the knowledge of Lance making fun of him. All his life, people had laughed at him for coming to school with various amounts of supports for his joints. He wouldn’t take it from some tactless  _ idiot _ .

 

Meanwhile, said tactless idiot was gaping up at him from his position on the stool. Fuck, what was that expression on his face? From this angle Keith looked almost  _ vulnerable _ . He looked embarrassed. Lance gulped, trying to think of the best way to solve this situation, but he found that he couldn’t.

 

“Okay, okay, look man—,” shit shit shit shit shit shit shit  _ shit _ , what was he going to do now? He just pissed Keith off big time! The dude was in pain, damn it, and he had to go and open his stupid mouth and make fun of him. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was nervous and I felt like an idiot for not knowing what uh—EDS, was it?—was, and then I guess I got either too comfortable or too uncomfortable, but I didn’t mean to laugh at you, I swear. I think I was going for ‘lighthearted teasing’ and ended up with ‘absolute fucking dickhead’.”

 

Keith snorted. “You said it, not me.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance sighed, looking down on the countertop dejectedly. Then a thought struck him and he straightened his back and looked Keith straight in the eyes. “Look, how about I make up for it? You go sit on the couch and I’ll, uh.. I’ll.. oh! I can go get you my heating blanket! It’s really soft and warm and maybe it’ll help? And then we can watch some movies, I can make popcorn and everything.”

 

Keith looked hesitant, but the idea of a heating blanket was too tempting to turn down.

 

He sighed. “Alright then.”

 

As he began his painful walk to the couch, Lance wondered if he should tell him that he just used his go-to way to help his sisters with cramps.

 

Needless to say, he decided against it.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Keith in this fic is absolutely not the poster boy for EDS! There are a lot of different types and different struggles for every individual. I just know things based on my own experiences.


End file.
